Umber

The psions’ plot to destroy Hommlet is foiled from Furyondy; Ammitai endures another trial in his quest for the Helm of the Purple Plume.

The geopolitical lesson concluded, Hadrack sat up and shifted closer to Sir Geoffrey and Brin again. “So what was this Sir Borch doing ordering you to Forestguard in the first place?” he asked. “He has no direct jurisdiction over you, and certainly no business sending knights of Dunthrane to Furyondian outposts.”

“Have you ever met him?” Geoffrey asked.

When the ranger shook his head, paladin and Jasian exchanged knowing glances. “I honestly don’t think it would have dawned on me to say no to him,” she admitted. She grew thoughtful. “If I were to imagine the hand of Heironeous moving through Oerth, I think it would be something like Sir Borch. Not arrogant, not humble, not partisan, not disinterested, just – a force. Doing what needs to be done. There’s something almost inhuman about him. I’m not sure whether he’s an asset to Dunthrane or not.”

A small smile flickered across Geoffrey’s face. “You would not be alone in wondering. But on balance, I think it is good that we have someone to remind us that the demands of righteousness transcend political boundaries.”

“I don’t think the Furyondians agree with you. The ones we met called him ‘Borch the Meddler.’”

“Yes, well – it takes an extraordinary man to enjoy being taken to task for his faults.”

“But what did he think was amiss?” Hadrack asked.

“He wouldn’t give us any information. He said he didn’t want to prejudice us, in case his judgment was wrong.”

“And what did you find?” the ranger said.

“Overgrown, unharvested fields, for starters. There wasn’t a peasant in sight. Then we approached the keep to find it on a war status, with its drawbridge retracted and far more than a casual complement of guards patrolling the walls.”

“They were safeguarding the farmers against some external threat?” Geoffrey said.

“They were safeguarding themselves against the farmers!” she exclaimed.

The paladin looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither did we. And being strangers, we weren’t likely to be enlightened. Mentioning Sir Borch made matters worse. They would neither provide information nor let us pass through their gates, preferring to leave us standing alone in the midst of this apparently grave danger. In spite of the fact that they were clearly Heironians, and we equally clearly had a Heironian paladin with us.” She rested her chin on her hand, gazing at Sir Geoffrey. “That’s something else I don’t understand. Why didn’t they let us in? If a mere Jasian door warden dared to challenge my right of entry…speaking of heads on pikestaffs…”

“You have the good fortune,” the paladin replied, “as do I as a Pelorite, really, of belonging to an order which doesn’t generally mix theology and politics. For the Heironians, it’s a different matter. And the crossroads of temporal and divine allegiance is sometimes a place of conflict.”

“Especially in Furyondy,” Hadrack frowned. “Too many pockets of that country are beginning to feel as the Pale must to a true servant of Pholtus. We have enough enemies, without courting new ones through insularity and undue suspicion.”

“So because of their political authority, Ammitai had no recourse?” she asked.

“He could have demanded a champion,” Geoffrey said. “Honorable combat to determine who had the right of the matter. If they are Heironians in anything other than name, they must respect a challenge.”

“Oh, not that again,” she said impatiently.

Hadrack waved a hand toward the paladin. “Here he is. Ask him to explain it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Have you participated in this kind of challenge?”

“Yes.”

“And have you always won?”

“No.”

“So that meant – when you lost – that you were not favored by Pelor?” Seeing him arch an eyebrow, she quickly looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said in a more formal tone. “That was an impertinent question.”

Instead of appearing angry, he was almost smiling. “We’ve laid aside our trappings of authority for the day,” which was true enough, for although Hadrack was in his usual leather Geoffrey had donned lighter armor for the walk and Brin was wearing none at all, and none of the three displayed any symbol of their deities. “I think we may safely set aside the knightly hierarchy as well, with no loss of respect on either side.” She looked at him with puzzlement, and he showed no sign of explaining himself. But his sole conversation with Achomed at Spinecastle had been lengthy, and he had walked away from it with a different view of the Blasingdell children than he had before. “What you expressed is a common view,” he said, “though I’ve always thought it a trifle simplistic. It is not the way I see the matter.” She started to speak, then cut herself off. “Go on,” he urged her.

“Then did it mean that your cause was wrong?”

“Ah,” he smiled fully now, “now that touches on something I find more interesting. Yes, I believe that was always the case. But the question is, what does it mean to be ‘wrong?’” At her blank look he said, “Let’s take a concrete example. Suppose Ammitai had demanded a challenger from Forestguard. Suppose further that the unthinkable happened, and he was bested. By the rules of challenge, he would have been required to cease all efforts to enter the keep.”

“But you don’t understand what was at stake!” she exclaimed. “We had to get in.”

“Did you?” he asked, with an amusement on his face that annoyed her.

“Yes, we did,” she said stiffly. “As it happened, there were hundreds of lives at stake. Including some that matter to me personally a great deal.” All of her deferential manner evaporated in the face of his infuriating composure. “You, a paladin of Pelor, are going to sit there telling me that those lives are gambled on whether or not Forestguard happens to possess a master swordsman with forty years or forty pounds on Ammitai who may or may not be able to defeat him?”

“No,” he replied calmly. “And yes. What I’m telling you is that the outcome of the challenge is a measure of Heironeous’ will in the matter.”

“So every time there is a challenge, Heironeous is standing behind one or the other, guiding his swordarm?”

“Don’t be absurd,” he remonstrated. “Would Wee Jas behave in such a manner?”

“Of course not.”

“Then credit the rest of us with deities of equal wisdom.”

“But Wee Jas also wouldn’t expect the outcome of a complety unrelated course of action to be decided by two men on horseback pointing lances at each other,” she objected. “That’s precisely what I don’t understand.”

“The gods guide us each in their own way.”

“But that doesn’t – ”

“Let me finish, child.” She bristled at his use of the diminutive, but waited. “We strive to be the best servants of our deities that we can, yes?” She nodded. “And we paladins are warriors, and it is in force of arms that we exercise the will of our gods.”

Unable to contain herself, she burst out, “But how can that determine who should enter a keep? It’s mere chance which is the better fighter.”

“Don’t mistake your will and your desires for the gods’,” he said sternly. “They see far. This is something you of all people should be acutely aware of. After all, a staff was years in the making, and two priests of Pelor and Fharlanghn were months in the journeying to Blasingdell, bearing the pieces of the Travelers’ Star that returned your life to you. Pelor and Fharlanghn began to act decades in advance of those events because they knew what Nerull and Orcus were plotting. Could they have chosen to save your life instead of restoring it to you? Perhaps. But what future events would that have affected? Would you now be some miller’s wife in Blasingdell, wondering in ignorance why the gods had forsaken us and in bewilderment why they just as mysteriously returned? Sometimes deaths – even of loved ones, even our own – are necessary. Sometimes loss is gain.”

She glanced at Hadrack, but he was staring absently into the water. And she shied away from the subject of her early years, although her tone grew less belligerent and more questioning. “So you’re saying that if Ammitai had demanded a champion, even in defeat he might still have been behaving as a true servant of Heironeous.”

“It is ever the challenge of the paladin to be warrior enough to win all of his battles, and priestly enough to know which not to fight. Or even which to lose. Not in his head,” he reached out and tapped her temple, “but in his heart.”

She seemed dissatisfied still, although she did not pursue the argument. Hadrack appeared lost in his own thoughts, and they fell silent for a lengthy interval, until he finally said, “But apparently Ammitai did not call for a champion, and yet you gained entry to Forestguard.”

“Oh, they let us in,” she said with a thin smile. “Corwin, to the dismay of most of the rest of us, mentioned that we were knights of Dunthrane. Someone was sent to check our names and appearances against their rolls – which they seem to keep close at hand – and we were granted admittance.” Her already disingenuous smile shifted to a scowl. “I certainly had no illusions over the sudden change of heart. Were we spies? Or if not, knaves enough to be manipulated into providing unwitting intelligence regarding Dunthrane? Certainly they treated us with as little courtesy as spies. And to reinforce the point that we were agents of a foreign potentate, with no inherent rights in their land, they demanded that we relinquish all of our weapons.”

Geoffrey nodded toward the quarterstaff by her side. “You are one of the least martial of your group, and it is still a formidable thing.”

She held up her empty left hand. “But it’s nothing compared to this. I don’t hide my holy symbol. They knew what I was. They marched us into a room full of guards – competent enough, I suppose, but still just guards. They were all armed. If it came to a fight, how long do you think it would be before Corwin and Vayel and the others wrested away their blades to turn back on them? No, it was a symbolic gesture. A feeble attempt to cow us into submission before an authority to whom we owed no fealty and no respect.” She glared at the two men, daring them to contradict her.

They exchanged concerned glances. “You’re probably not wrong,” Hadrack admitted.

“I understand your frustration,” Geoffrey said. At her skeptical look he added, “Knights of Dunthrane you may officially be, but your duties transcend the political. Psions plotting in the shadows to enslave the entire population of Oerth, an ancient evil reaching out to destroy it altogether – these are foes beside which trivial claims to bits of land and lines drawn on maps should fade into insignificance. And in their desire for personal power and authority, temporal rulers are often pridefully blind to their own self-interest, let alone that of their subjects. It is maddening to face petty obstructionism, with stakes so high. It is easy, in the name of righteousness, or justice, or whatever other noble motive drives you, to believe you have the right to sweep such shallow men’s paltry rules aside.” As the anger in her eyes faltered, he added, “But we must ever beware our own pride. As our power grows, we find less and less need to bend our knee to any man. But perhaps, to continue to cleave to those principles we hold most dear, there is all the more need to do so. Or we wake up one day and find ourselves a law unto ourselves, and that is akin to chaos.”

Looking chastened, Brin plucked a water-smoothed rock out of the current and began turning it over between her fingers. “Perhaps Dryden was right,” she mused. “As soon as the situation looked sour, he wanted to sidestep Forestguard all together.”

Hadrack looked over at her. “The Green Jerkins.”

“The other way of transcending the political,” Geoffrey said, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“That’s what you would have done, isn’t it?” she asked. “Sought them out.”

“I certainly would have given it serious thought. They are guardians of the people, not of institutions.”

“And yet,” the paladin said, “what message would it have sent if knights of Dunthrane were seen apparently treating with a band who, however benevolent their intentions, are not the official voice of Furyondy?”

The ranger shrugged. “That’s why the Dispatch doesn’t maintain a roll. Then the issue never comes up.”

“Yes, I know how you feel about institutions, rules and bureaucracy,” Geoffrey replied, frowning slightly. “But when the discipline of an organization – and use whatever name you like, the Dispatch is still an organization – depends on the loyalty of its members to a single individual rather than – ”

“It does not – ”

Geoffrey brushed a hand in front of his face as if swatting at a fly. “I know it wasn’t by design. That certainly wasn’t your intent, but nonetheless – ”

Hadrack was scowling openly now, and Brin interrupted them hastily. For reasons she couldn’t fully articulate, she didn’t like to see the two men arguing. “It wouldn’t have mattered. The Green Jerkins were gone.”

Her words succeeded in breaking off their dispute. “What do you mean, gone?” Hadrack asked.

“Just gone. Nowhere to be found, with no news of them. Just like the peasants.”

“How did you find this out?”

“The Earl was otherwise engaged when we were first admitted, but one of the keep wizards came to speak with us. He, at least, was more reasonable than the gate guard. And although he was not at liberty to be completely open with us, he was more forthcoming than anyone else we’d spoken with.”

“So what was this grave danger posed by the peasants?” Geoffrey asked.

“They had been restive for some little while. Suddenly complaining about taxes, which they’d never done before. Word had it – from individuals who don’t pay taxes, admittedly – that the tax collector was quite a reasonable man. Things apparently came to a head when the Forestguard smith, a dwarf of some talent, was murdered in a most gruesome fashion. At about the same time farmers, groomsmen, cooks – they all disappeared.”

Hadrack looked dubious. “Why would the farmers and servants strike out against the smith? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it didn’t. We asked to see the forge which the wizard, fortunately, was happy to let us examine if we could shed light on the matter.” She shook her head. “It should have been obvious to the casual observer that peasants had nothing to do with this. Whatever attacked him went straight through the smithy doors. And not with a lot of effort. The smith himself was nearly bitten in two.”

The ranger leaned forward intently, but before he could speak Geoffrey exclaimed, “Bitten?”

Brin looked over at Hadrack and nodded curtly. “There were claw marks on the floor.” She drew her fingers across the stone on which she sat. “Stone like this, yet they were plainly visible. Dryden said that if it were a natural creature, he would say it was some kind of large feline. But if so, it had claws hard as adamantine.”

“And no one could shed any light on the situation?” Geoffrey asked, inadvertently interrupting Hadrack again.

“When we finally spoke to the earl, he told us that the peasants had been corrupted through the machinations of a depraved cult.”

“Worshippers of Tharizdun?” the paladin said.

“At first the description certainly seemed to fit. Especially when he spoke of an altar with an object from which evil seemed to emanate like an inky cloud.”

“He had seen the altar?” Sir Geoffrey looked taken aback. “Then why was he cowering in his keep? Why did he not send out a force to deal with the situation?”

“Oh, he’d seen the altar all right. But he had no idea where it was. He had ‘intelligence,’ the source of which he refused in the strongest possible terms to reveal. But from the way he spoke of it, it didn’t sound like a person.”

Whatever Hadrack meant to say before seemed to fly from his mind. “And had he recently purchased some piece of art?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “He had. And when he described the altar in more detail, we knew we had a serious problem. The colors, the images, the wild faces of the worshippers all matched what one might expect of a temple of Tharizdun. But the structures, down to the last detail – ” revisiting the memory, she sighed. “It was the Pelorite temple in Hommlet.”

“The tapestry,” he growled. He summarized briefly for Sir Geoffrey the situation in Hommlet, then said, “What manner of item did he possess? What qualities did you find when you examined it?”

“Examine it?” she laughed harshly. “He had no intention of allowing us to examine it. It was in a hall of sacred Furyondian relics, you see. Outsiders not allowed. I suppose you might say Heironeous did aid us, there. We thought we were at yet another impasse – our exchanges with the Furyondians seemed full of them. But Ammitai’s phylactery pointed straight into the forbidden hall.” She studied Sir Geoffrey, who had grown abruptly sober. “Or did you already know that?”

She wasn’t certain he was going to reply, but finally he said, “I served as a second there, once. Decades ago, now. Before I met you,” glancing at Hadrack, and then at Brin, “and well before you were born. He was a talented warrior, a very brave, confident man.” Shifting topic abruptly, he asked, “Did Ammitai tell you what transpired?”

“He took Dinadel with him, into the hall, escorted by a paladin named Sir Gavin.” Her voice lacked the disdain it had when she referred to other denizens of Forestguard. “There was a lance on the wall. He took it in hand and was transported to some other place. Phillip was with him and another mounted knight with a similar lance. His face was hidden behind his visor, and he did not speak.”

“It is the challenge,” Geoffrey said softly, “to defeat that knight.”

“Was it – in some sense – Ammitai himself?”

“No.” He said the word with finality, and Brin did not question him further.

“I presume Ammitai prevailed?” Hadrack asked.

She nodded. “A fortunate occurrence for Dinadel and Sir Gavin,” the paladin said. “And for you all.”

“Someone always emerges from the conflict?” she asked.

“Yes. And if it is not the questor, the second and the attending Furyondian knight must battle the veiled challenger to the death.”

“That wasn’t made clear to Ammitai and Dinadel,” she said.

“It wasn’t supposed to be made clear,” he replied. “This quest isn’t about rules of engagement. It isn’t about the phylactery and the lance and – ” he paused, “whatever comes after. It’s about the ineffable. The soul.” He grew reflective again. “And like all journeys of the soul, it’s very dangerous.”

“But surely it wasn’t a fight to – ” she faltered at the look on his face.

“Oh yes, it was, child. A fight to the death, and more. Had Ammitai failed, and had you ten times the power you do today, there would have been nothing you could do to bring him back.”

“Did the paladin you accompanied survive?” she asked hesitantly.

He gave her a wan smile. “I think you know the answer to that. He was very strong, and very brave. But sometimes that is not enough.” He sighed. “It is long past.” Smiling, he added, “And I’m confident that Ammitai will not meet his fate. Now,” he said more briskly, “tell us of this vision-granting device of the earl’s. Was it another tapestry like the one in Hommlet?”

“Aside from Ammitai and Dinadel, none of us knew. He took a vow before he entered the hall not to speak of what he saw. And he kept it.” Her face was expressionless as she uttered the last. “So we were back to needing to impress upon the earl the importance of the matter, while being ignorant of the particulars.”

“Why didn’t you just lay your case before him?” Geoffrey asked.

“He was in the company of dozens of his knights and advisors. We refused to speak before them all, and he refused to dismiss them. We danced around the subject of the tax collector for a while, and that just deepened our fears. He’d gone missing, you see, about the time we arrived in the region.”

“But in fact he’s been doubtless a long time dead,” Hadrack said grimly. “And there lies the source of the farmers’ inexplicable complaints. They were being taxed more heavily than before.”

“We had no way of knowing whether he was an isolated replacement or not. Individually, we know what signs to look for now – the psions seem unable to curb their contempt for thickheads. But out of an entire roomful of people…”

“How did you break that impasse?” the paladin said.

Her tone was chill. “He wanted his smith restored to life. For Jasians, there’s always a price. He didn’t like mine, but he agreed to it. A private audience.” Hadrack looked disapproving, but she met his eyes steadily. “Not honorable, perhaps, but well within the law and my rights. And for what it’s worth,” she said, “it didn’t come to that. Sir Gavin accompanied us when I went to perform the ceremony. He seemed a thoughtful, deliberate man, so Corwin and I told him a story. Of a tax collector who appeared as he always did, but was not what he seemed. Of a small town in Veluna and the elegant tapestry prominently displayed in its Pelorite Temple. Of carefully laid plots, and carefully disguised deceptions. He was sorely shaken.”

“As we all have been,” Geoffrey murmured.

“But he believed us. And he said he would speak to the Earl himself. Events played out very differently after that. He released Ammitai from his vow of silence, and permitted us to examine the tapestry.”

“And was it like the one in Hommlet?” Hadrack asked.

“For all intents and purposes, it is the one in Hommlet. Occupying overlapping regions of space – I don’t know how, I don’t understand it. But the Forestguard side differs in several crucial respects. It actually is a window onto the Pelorite Temple, although there is some enchantment woven into it that distorts the figures it reveals. Ammitai managed to see through it, as did most of the rest of us. But the Furyondians were all deceived. Worse still, in addition to being a window it appeared it could serve as a door.” Seeing alarm on the men’s faces, she said, “At any time, they could have sent a force through the tapestry into Veluna.”

“And slaughtered the entire population of Hommlet,” Hadrack said, “believing the while that they were eradicating a great evil.”

“The Raoists may have pacifist tendencies,” Geoffrey said, “but such an act would, at the very least, generate enormous friction between the two countries. As no doubt the psions wanted.”

“But then that means the local populace wasn’t lured away by an evil cult,” the ranger remarked. “What did happen to them?”

“After his credulity was exposed, the Earl was only too happy to return our weapons to us and dispatch us to find out. Following their trail, we were beset by ogres, hill giants and a largish green dragon.”

“Ogres? In that region? What were they doing there?” Hadrack asked.

“As a matter of fact, they had a visitation from their deity, who sent them on a ‘mission.’”

“In the case of ogres,” Geoffrey sighed, “the ‘thickhead’ label is accurate enough. No doubt they were easily manipulated.”

“Fairly easily dispatched, too,” she said. “The dragon proved more challenging.”

“What of the Green Jerkins?” Hadrack asked intently. “Did you find any sign of them?”

“Yes, we did. Corwin was, not surprisingly,” she smiled, “eager to find the dragon’s lair. Inside, we also found the Green Jerkins. And the peasants. The rangers had been disturbed by the news from Forestguard and feared for the laborers’ safety, so they organized an evacuation. They led them to a large, safe cave – ”

“And were trapped by a dragon they didn’t realize already lived there,” Hadrack concluded.

“Exactly. They lost some men trying to keep the peasants fed and watered. They all definitely looked rather the worse for wear, but Dryden and Unus-Aquila flew back to Forestguard and a very relieved Earl dispatched men with food and water.”

Sir Geoffrey nodded in satisfaction. “That ended well then.”

“Not entirely well,” she corrected him, “and not entirely ended. For Forestguard nor, I suspect, for us. For one thing, the phony tax collector was levying real taxes. We found wagons full of grain and other foodstuffs in the forest – all burned. Even if they manage to harvest the still outstanding crops – ”

The paladin’s levity faded. “It will be a lean winter for the keep, and they’ll require supplies from elsewhere.”

“Which are vulnerable to bandrity – opportunistic or organized,” Hadrack concluded. He turned to Brin. “And you’re worried about the smiths.”

“Smiths?” Geoffrey repeated, emphasizing the plural.

“This wasn’t an isolated incident,” Brin replied. She looked at Hadrack. “I assume you know that Khundrakar was attacked.”

The ranger was nodding as Geoffrey said in disbelief, “Khundrakar?”

“Fortunately,” Brin said, “Nightwing was there. He fought off what he described as a giant, metallic cat. A construct of some sort. It was a tough battle, even for him. And there have been other attacks on other smithys as well. I asked Glom. The majority of the smiths haven’t survived.”

“There aren’t many forges with the services of a bronze dragon to keep them safe,” the paladin murmured. “Who is on a rampage to remove all the talented smiths from Oerth?”

“Not just Oerth, I don’t think,” she said. Now both men looked at her expectantly. “When we had our portal open onto Mechanus, we saw a massive, metallic catlike creature standing in front of a forge there. We thought it was someone’s project. But after what I’ve seen, and heard from Glom…”

“You think it was a predator there, just as here,” Hadrack interjected.

“No, I don’t think it was a predator,” she said slowly. “I think it was a harvester.”

“What do you mean?” Geoffrey asked.

“I told you that I tried to raise the Forestguard smith.”

“But you failed?”

“I didn’t fail, and I didn’t succeed. When I reached out for his soul, there was – nothing. Glom did some research for me. A scattering of priests have tried to resurrect other smiths killed by this creature, with the same result. That’s when I started wondering – what if the point isn’t to destroy the smiths, but to use them?”

“I don’t understand how – ” the paladin began, then cut off at the look of revulsion contorting Hadrack’s face.

“Stealing souls,” the ranger said in a cold voice, “and binding them.”

“Forced to work in concert to build – something. Something powerful. Something terrible.” She stared down at her mechanical hand. “I hope I’m wrong.”

Sir Geoffrey sighed. “I wonder whose plot this is?”

“I’m not sure how to even begin finding out. But we can’t let it continue.” She sounded agitated. “We had too much to do already. And now this. Pursue the psions and good craftsmen continue to die. Track down the craftsmen and the Tharizdun cultists do the gods only know what in their dark temples. We’ve made no progress tracing the object we saw fall from the sky, and we were supposed to go to Nulb – how many years ago? and – ”

“Brin,” Hadrack interrupted her curtly. When he had her attention he said in a kinder tone, “Let it go for an afternoon.” He swept the remains of lunch into the satchel, rose and extended a hand to her. “Come on.”

Geoffrey rose as well, moving to retrace his steps to the inn. “You’re leaving?” she asked.

“I don’t think the three of us together could resist the urge to talk shop,” he said. “And I have some business with Erenil. Go look at some pretty flowers, or bear cubs, or – ”

“Rotting vegetation?” she suggested, grinning at him. “Decomposing animal carcasses?”

He rolled his eyes, but was smiling. “Come say goodbye before you leave.” He bowed to her, then stood watching as she and Hadrack walked deeper into the forest.